Tell Me It's Alright
by NellietheMarvelous
Summary: Spoilers for Still. Home. He is her home. And he stayed.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: OMG. Just no.  
**

**A/N: Major Spoilers for Still guys. Because I just HAD to. That episode. I'm in love with it.  
**

It's still broad daylight, getting late in the evening but there's no need for lights just yet. Which is really okay, perfectly fine because neither occupant wants to move. Kate wouldn't - not even if someone paid her. There's nothing that can take her away from this. It still seems unreal, the fact that they avoided yet another deadly situation. A bomb. She'd been standing on a bomb for _hours_. Her legs still ache. The muscles tired and buzzing.

This helps. Sitting in the middle of the bed, straddling Castle as his hands massage over her thighs. Yeah, it helps. The warmth of him, the heat of his fingers - the way his breath feels against her neck - it's all consuming. She's clinging to him, one hand buried in his hair and the other pushing into his back to draw him closer. They aren't moving, not really. Just a brush of a hand here or there, a press of lips.

It didn't start this way. As soon as she had him through the door, she practically climbed up his body. Needing to be touched, needing to know they really made it. They're alive and still here. Somewhere between the last article of clothing hitting the floor and making it to the center of the mattress, the raw need changed into something soft. She doesn't know how. Maybe it was the kiss he placed on her forehead, or maybe it was the way she caressed his cheek when she settled in his lap, both of them bare of clothing and completely filled with a sense of mortality.

Cheeks touching, his nose in her neck and she lets out a stuttered breath. Oh. She could've died. She would have died if he hadn't stayed. She wants to be mad - tell him how stupid it was for him to put himself in that position but she doesn't. She can't. Because honestly, she's glad he didn't leave. She didn't want to be alone and yes, it's selfish. He could've died up there with her, left Alexis without a father. She knows the pain of losing a parent and wouldn't wish it on anyone.

Her eyes close, lashes brushing against his skin and she feels him grip her tighter, pull at her thighs with unforgiving fingers. She doesn't tell him to stop, doesn't voice that it's a little uncomfortable because he's pinching her skin. She's too busy enjoying the feel of him. She sighs, rolls her hips into his, soft and slow. He's still hard beneath her and she's more than aroused. A near death experience tends to do that. Sends her blood pumping and heat blazing. She just wants to spend all night in his arms.

She thinks about the words she let out, the feelings she set free and she turns her head, nudges his cheek with her nose until he meets her lips. It's not something she just said in the moment. It's not like that. She means it. Every word. She wanted him to know. She didn't want to die and leave him without the knowledge that her feelings are the same as his. That she's just as in love.

She whispers it into his mouth, pushes it in with a touch of her tongue. His arms circle around her, his legs pushing up from the mattress. She holds onto him, trusting him, never letting go as he shifts them both, tucking her beneath him as he lays her back into the pillows. Her fingers trace over his bicep, dance up and over his shoulder to slip around to the nape of his neck.

Eyes open, staring up into his, she gives him a small smile. They did it. They really survived. Again.

"I love you, Rick. I wasn't just saying it - I love you."

"I know. I know, Kate." And then words are lost, forgotten as he spreads her thighs, settles between them. She thrusts her hips, lets him slide home. Home. That's what he feels like. Clinging, touching, making love. He's home. She thought she was dying. She let herself accept it and this - the feel of him, the way he's pushing into her slowly, caressing her side with a gentle hand - it's too much.

Her eyes fill with tears, but she won't stop watching him. The intensity of his gaze burning, making her want to flip them, take control, and get this show on the road but he needs this. She can see it. He needs the reassurance and she has time for something a little more mind scrambling later. She has a later. She didn't get blown up and she's really here.

She meets his downward stroke, breathes out a harsh puff of air against his lips. Okay, maybe she needs this too. The easy burn. The coil that tightens in her belly, the zing of pleasure that has her curling her toes and digging her nails into his back. With every press of him, every move, every slight twitch of him inside she slips closer.

Her lashes flutter, a tear releasing and he's murmuring into her, breathing words into her mouth. She lifts her head, slants her lips over his. Pulling, taking, giving. That's what she's doing. He slides out, she begs him back him. He tries to breathe, she doesn't let his mouth get very far. But she's pouring herself out.

With a twist of her hips and a clench of her muscles around his length, he's gasping into her and she tugs on his bottom lip. The pace increases, a few moans slip out. Her hand slides down to clench his backside on a particularly well timed thrust that has the air rushing out of her lungs and her body tensing. Her fingers dig in, urging him on, needing more of him. Closer. Everywhere.

She can feel it, her orgasm building. Boiling just beneath her skin, just out of reach and she knows, she _knows _it's going to leave her a mess of sweaty limbs. Her leg wraps around his waist, makes them both groan at the new angle, the depth he reaches with each stroke. She's not sure he ends at all. He's an infinite being inside of her. A constant push, pull, fill. He does it all.

He palms her breast, squeezing, pinching. Brings his mouth down to cover her in alternating licks and nips that leave her quaking beneath him, thrashing, head tossing back into the pillow as her back forms a perfect arch. She doesn't expect it. The way the spring of pleasure snaps apart, tears at her until she's tensing around him, fluttering, gripping, coaxing him into his own release. Her lungs empty, fight for more air, fingers scraping over his skin, hands stroking over his sweaty back.

She doesn't know when her eyes shut but the moment they open, he's still. He's above her, still buried deep but he's not moving and she knows he went with her. He fell the very moment she did. Gave in to the day, to the pleasure, to the feel of her around him.

Her cheeks are wet, she feels it cooling. Her whole body is cooling, loosening, muscles becoming useless. He tries to pull back but she doesn't want him to. She wants him to stay. To be with her, in her, for as long as possible. She wraps her other leg around him, pulls him back until his chest is against hers, sticking somewhat uncomfortably.

"Stay."

"I'd love to but my arms are shaking." She doesn't care if he collapses, she'll support his weight - won't even complain. The corners of her lips twitch as she stares into his baby blues.

"Oh come on, Castle, I stood on a bomb for hours and you're telling me -" He growls, cuts her off with a sloppy crush of his mouth against hers. She smiles, rolls with him when he falls to the side, pulling on her to follow. The shift is uncomfortable, makes both of them hiss at the sudden separation of their bodies. Just a brief moment of discomfort and then he's holding her, sliding his thigh between hers and tangling one hand in her messy ponytail. She's not even sure if it can be called a ponytail at this point. His fingers caught in it more than once, tugging at her hair. She doesn't want to know what it looks like.

His other hand appears in front of her, thumb brushing against her cheek, wiping at the trail of the few tears that managed to escape. That's when she notices, sees the red tint in his eyes and realizes that she's not the only one who let her emotions get the best of her. He'd been her constant. The one who refused to accept the fact that she was on a bomb and going to die. He never gave up hope but this is proof, he was just as terrified.

She raises her fingers, brushes back the hair sticking to his forehead. Their skin is sticking together, it's a bit gross, and she knows it's not going to be pleasant when they finally put some distance between them but she doesn't care right now. She's busy letting her ring finger trace down his nose, over his lips. He kisses the tip.

"I really thought I wasn't going to make it out of there."

"We did." Her stomach churns at his use of 'we', he shouldn't have been in that room. He should've been safe and yet she's still so thankful that he didn't leave. She doesn't care who liked whom first. It's a ridiculous argument but she's so very glad that he pushed it, that he used it to take her mind off of things. And besides, it's obvious he liked her first. No matter how much he denies it. It's so beyond obvious.

"I made peace with it. I let myself think of all the things I've done - everything we've been through together. And I -" A shrill ring of a phone, a buzz of the vibrate, cuts her off. She rolls away, regrets it immediately, and reaches for her phone resting on the nightstand. She sits up, pushes some stray hair out of her face as she reads the caller ID. "It's my dad."

Castle nods, says nothing as she presses 'accept' and turns her back on him to perch on the edge of the mattress.

"Hey Dad," She hears the worry in his voice, the way he asks if she's alright.

_"You okay, Katie? I got your voicemail and I -"_

"I'm fine. I uh, it was just a bad day. That's all." She bites the inside of her cheek, hates that she's lying to her father but he'd only worry himself sick if she told him the truth.

The warm press of lips against her shoulder and she's relaxing, letting Castle tug her back into his chest. She lets him wrap the sheet around both of them, rest his arm around her waist. She whispers a thank you because honestly, it's just weird to be naked and on the phone with her father._  
_She makes herself comfortable, lets her weight settle into him as she listens to her father voice his concerns. Maybe she'll tell him eventually but there's no need. Not really. She's alive, Castle's right here with her and her father is talking in her ear. That's enough.

**a/n: Had to get this out.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: OMG. Just no.  
**

**A/N: This got stuck in my head. Yeah, I know it didn't happen but I like to think it did. For now. Because if the finale is sad or doesn't turn out the way I hope then Still and this story are my season finale dammit.  
**

**Just a short ending tacked on last minute to this story.**

It's the second time in as many days that she wakes to his stare. A sense of Deja Vu washes over her and she has a momentary blip of panic race through her veins. No. She can't do this again. But it's different this time, he's sitting next to her, the mattress dipping under his weight and she realizes that she isn't reliving the same day or having some twisted nightmare. It's a new day. A new start. She feels a bit foolish for even thinking like this. Oh. And she's still bare of clothing. That's definitely not the same.

"Hey." She smiles as she says it, rubs at her eyes as she pushes herself up into a sitting position. Knees raising to become a resting place for her arms.

"Hey."

"This almost feels like Deja Vu." She's hoping to get a smile out of him but it's not working. He just hands her a cup of coffee, eyes still caught with her own and lips set in a thin line.

She drops her gaze, lifts the mug to her mouth for a sip of the hot liquid gold. A heart greets her. Her chest constricts and as soon as the flavor bursts on her tongue she reaches out and lets the cup find a home on the nightstand. She's still feeling it. The fear. The relief. The need to _move_. She wants to strap on her running shoes, go out, stretch her legs but she doesn't want to leave.

Castle is here. And she's still a bit shaken. Still unable to process everything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours. She reaches for him, leans into his shoulder as she wraps her arms around him. It's awkward with her legs between them, separating their chests but he doesn't try to fix it. He just strokes over her hair, breathes her in. She feels him inhale as her eyes flutter.

A cramp starts in her thigh, spreads up to her hip and she squirms to get comfortable. It burns, aches, and she finally moves, pulls back from Castle's warmth.

"My legs are cramping. Lack of motion."

"We could go for a walk, have a breakfast picnic in the park." She almost scoffs, makes a comment about the cheesiness of it but she doesn't because it sounds like a great idea at this point. And she loves his romantic side.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Kate bites her lip, dances her fingers over his hip and dips her hand into the boxers he's wearing. He sucks in a breath, catches her wrist. She wants to see him smirk, wants the playfulness she's used to in their mornings spent together. He still looks so serious.

"Then we're definitely going to need a shower. Join me?"

"Uh, actually, I want to talk to you about something." Her heart stutters to a halt, the organ seizing to provide it's duties for a few seconds. "We made it. We're alive."

"I know."

"No, what I'm saying is everything could have gone differently. Ended way worse." She knows that too but his forehead is crinkled, telling her he's fighting for the right words. Her author is struggling to say what he's thinking. If that isn't serious then she doesn't know what is.

"Castle, everything is okay now. We could've died up there but we didn't. We're both fine, we're still here and that's all that matters."

"No, it isn't. What matters is that I regret -"

"No regrets. I told you, I have no regrets."

"I do. Kate, there's so many things I want to do, to say, to share with you and if that bomb would've went off - we would've been out of time and all of my plans, my dreams, this relationship, everything would've been gone. Incinerated. Nothing but ash." She swallows around the lump that's starting to form in her throat. He's plucking at her heart strings, tugging and twisting them into a knotted mess.

"Life is short. We both know that. We've been shown that so much over the years so where is this coming from?"

"You're right but I think I've been so caught up in being with you, being in the moment, that I've forgotten it could be gone in a second." She actually whimpers when he chokes on the words. A tiny mewling sound that breaks through. "I've been dancing around on a high."

"We both have. I'm just as invested in this."

"And I've been terrified of scaring you off," His fingers close around hers and something sharp and warm presses into her palm. "I'm still scared but I can't wait. What if we don't get tomorrow? I don't want you to not know how serious I am."

She pries her hand from his, opens her fist to see what he's just forced into her skin. Her vision blurs, mouth opens on a silent gasp as she sees it for the first time. The circular band. The diamond. The sapphire gems on each side. She can't take her eyes off of it. Not even when his fingers lift it from her palm, twist her hand around until it's right side up.

"Rick..."

"You don't have to say anything. I just want you to know that I'm asking and that it's a big deal for me after two failed attempts but I think I finally got it right this time." Her chest is tight, bursting, and she wants to launch herself into him, drag her lips over every inch of his body until he has no doubts. She's in this. She isn't going to tuck her tail and run.

"I didn't really hear a question in there." She gives him a smirk, revels in the way his eyes light up. He tilts his head and she nods, lets him know it's okay. She's okay. More than. "You plan on asking or just sitting there imitating a puppy?"

"You're still really good at bossing men around." Now he's smiling. Finally. "Will you marry me, Katherine Beckett?"

"I suppose." She's trying to remain aloof, nonchalant about it but it isn't working. Her lips are betraying her, spreading into a grin.

"You _suppose_?"

"I've got nothing better to do." She shrugs a shoulder, eyes bright, tongue poking out between her teeth. He's going to get her back for this, she already knows it. "You plan on putting that ring on my finger or do I have to do it myself?"

He strokes his thumb over her knuckles, carefully slips the band into place. It feels heavy, foreign, but good. Something that's right. He tugs, pulling her into his lap, and she goes without fuss - lets the blankets fall away as her mouth settles over his. He breathes into her, whispers against her lips.

"Time for that shower." And her body is engulfed in the flames of anticipation. His voice promises things, low and husky, making her hips roll into his. Their breakfast picnic is going to have to wait.

**a/n: Now this is officially complete.  
**


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